Give Me Five Minutes
by Creepsandfreakshows
Summary: One Shot. Written for a roleplay. AU/7th year. Grayson Wood seeks out Damien Richards for answers. Rated M for language and suggestive material. Grayson Wood/Damien Richards.


"It's all I'm asking."

His tone had meant to be reassuring, but because his throat was tightening, constricting his airway, it ended up coming out as a whisper. Maybe that was a good thing. Perhaps his regular voice, even when soft-toned and gentle, wasn't as sexy as a murmured whisper.

He wouldn't look at him. Wouldn't be able to bear the look of certain disgust or _that_ look. That look that he came to associate as Damien thinking he had said or done something extremely stupid. Most of the time he even said so. He didn t want to be called an idiot this time.

He wasn't asking for much.

"Just five minutes."

He knew you couldn't make someone like someone else. You could try, but usually it would always end with frustration and despair. He didn't want it to end like this, but he couldn't help it. He was grasping at straws; it was his last chance. If this didn't work, then...

"And If you don't... change your mind, or feel anything... or just... If there's nothing there..."

It was their seventh year in Hogwarts, and Grayson had very obviously made known his intentions toward Damien Richards. He wanted him. Wanted him as more than a friend, and apparently sneaky kisses and awkward silences weren't enough for him anymore. And just a touch of alcohol had given him nerve.

"And I'll stop. I'll stop all of it. It'll take some time, but eventually, it'll stop."

He'd been persistent and loud. There wasn't a student or teacher in the school who didn't know that Grayson Wood was waiting to make his move, waiting to snatch up that Richards boy before that Longbottom girl could try chatting him up again. That had been painful, however humourous.

"I... I just-"

"Okay."

He must've sensed the desperation in his voice, that almost insignificant tremble as he tried to explain himself, but couldn't quite get the right words out. Nothing ever sounded right, especially when he was trying. It was when everything went to hell. Expressing himself and laying it all out for Damien made him feel vulnerable. But he knew he would. He'd accepted that. He would do it for Damien.

"Yeah?"

He had to make sure.

"Yes."

Grayson nodded, finally darting his eyes up, hoping he didn t look as terrified as he felt, just to make certain that this wasn't a joke. Damien hardly joked, and he honestly didn't think this would be something he'd joke about.

"Anything I want?"

He bit his lip as the other boy hesitated. Then nodded.

"For five minutes."

"Five minutes. Not a second more, Wood."

"Starting?"

"Now."

"Okay." Nodding again, Grayson took a step forward, fists clenched. He honestly didn't know what he was going to do. And damn him if Damien didn't stand his ground. He hardly hesitated with his next couple of steps, but it was obvious how timid they were compared to how he normally walked.

When he reached him, he furrowed his brow. What exactly was his first move going to be? Why hadn't he thought this out? Why did he have to be so fucking impulsive? Why did Damien have to agree? This could be his last - no. He took a deep breath and lifted a slightly trembling hand and lightly touched the other guy's face.

Instinctively, he pulled it right back, catching his gaze. He flushed immediately upon seeing him roll his eyes, but that only actually made him realise that, yes, he was being a pansy about this. This was his chance, his one real, actual, given shot. He heard Damien huff.

"Okay," he repeated, taking one more step forward and rested his hand against the side of his face with his fingertips. Okay. This is fine. No harm done. Good.

Having been so far successful, Grayson finally worked up the courage enough to continue. He could do this. He would do this. He was a Gryffindor, and he was not afraid. Bringing his other hand to the other side of Damien's face, he allowed them to familiarise the contours, the bone structure.

"Four minutes."

He jerked, thrown out of the moment by the intrusion of Damien's voice. He scowled, chastising him with his eyes before he realised his hands were just... there. He couldn't just stand there, and time was passing. He set his features and licked his lips, lowering his eyes to Damien's mouth. Yes, that was the obvious next move.

No more wasting time. He lowered his hands until they were on Damien's chest, and he backed him into the wall. _My turn_, he thought, smirking just slightly before he leaned into him, pressing him firmly against the stone. His lips ghosted against the Ravenclaw's briefly before finally giving him a proper kiss. Several of them. And then he became insistent.

By now, he'd slid his hands into his hair, using the strands to help him tilt Damien's head slightly to the side and forward just 'so' to make it easier for himself. Damn the guy's height. But no, not really. Grayson liked it.

Even after he'd parted their lips, licked teasingly at his bottom lip and nipped at it playfully, he had yet to ellicit a response. He wasn't kissing him back, and he had to fight to shut off his mind to keep himself from freaking out. His kisses were fantastic, he knew. He didn't need to worry about his performance, this was just Damien. Damien being stupid, Damien attempting to remain impassive. Damien being a douchebag.

He didn't stop, just wandered away from Damien's stupid lips, and instead found himself treating himself to his jawbone. Damien was an ass. He suckled lightly on the skin just beneath and to the side of his chin. Damien was a jerk. He then pulled back briefly to bite his chin. Hard.

This produced a response, finally, and even though it wasn't exactly how he wanted him to, his plan still worked. Damien had pushed his face away from him to dislodge him, but only long enough for him to redirect him and bite Grayson's cheek with just as much, if not more, force.

Grayson yelped, and instead of doing what other, normal people would've done, he only pulled him closer. He did, however, turn his face to the side so he wasn't being bitten anymore. Blinking away spots from his eyes and unshed tears of pain, he found himself laughing.

"You kinky fuck." But at least it had gotten him to do something.

He turned his face back to him, fully grinning. At least biting had gotten him over his anxiety. This was fun. He kissed him again, this time with more confidence and closed eyes, an arm slung over his shoulders.

"I'll do it again if you don't kiss me back," he muttered against his lips, his free hand trailing his middle finger down his neck and into the collar of Damien's shirt. He got no response.

"Ah."

Grayson decided that it was exactly what Damien wanted, and he was more than happy to oblige. He continued pinning him against the wall, mouth once more on his neck - that wasn't exposed enough for his tastes.

He found the fastenings of the button-down shirt easily enough without looking, and as they were freed, his lips found their new playground with little effort. His teeth grazed against his collarbone, which Grayson had little problem in reaching, much to his satisfaction, and as he added just a little bit of pressure, so he wasn't exactly biting him, he took notice of the quickness of the Ravenclaw's pulse.

He wouldn't think about what it meant.

When he finished with the buttons, he grabbed the openings and shoved them off of his shoulders. He had no idea how much time he had left, and he would be damned if he was going to be cut short by a fucking shirt.

His hands found Damien's waist, fingers climbing up the small of his back, and he slid himself down, peppering heated kisses across his chest, biting down and sucking on his right pectoral. Now he wasn't certain whether he was listening to Damien's heartbeat or if it was his own blood rushing inside his head.

This was really happening.

His mouth zig-zagged down Damien's torso, leaving lovebites in its wake. He wasn't even thinking anymore, just reacting to impulse, or doing whatever his own body thought was right.

He sunk to his knees, wrapping his arms around the small of Damien's back, face pressed against his stomach and mouth nipping slightly at the skin just above his belly button.

He brought his hands back to his sides, thumbs pressing into his hipbones slightly before his other digits curled into the waistband of his trousers.

It was then that he was smacked in the back of his head.

"Time. Get off, time."

He was physically pulled back onto his feet, and he was beaming into Damien's face as he gained his balance back.

"I think I'm going to kiss you again," he warned him, leaning into his chest and giggling as much as he could through his breathlessness. Damien was rad, this was rad, and this was warm and - he came to the conclusion that Damien should never wear a shirt again.

He slid his arms around him again, tilting his own head back and letting his eyes flutter closed, but just before he closed the distance between their lips, his eyes shot open and he looked... worried.

"I-I can, can't I?" he asked, suddenly remembering his pleas from earlier, that if Damien hadn't felt anything, that there was nothing there, that he would stop. All of it. No more flirting, no more innuendos, no more gazing at him like he knew what he wanted from him. No more of that.

He bit at his bottom lip, gnawing on it worriedly as he waited for his answer. The silence was growing, and even as he waited, he could already feel his face paling, and then his heartbeat picked back up again. He was getting anxious again, but no. Damien hadn't answered him yet. He was overreacting.

"No. You can't."

And now he could panic. He did - was. He scrambled backwards, pulling himself away from the other guy. Turned his back and braced himself against the wall. Merlin, he was an idiot. A fucking idiot. What had he expected? He couldn't. He can't. This wasn't what he wanted.

But he'd promised. Not technically, but it was implied, and and and... and he had to face the consequences of his actions. Had he gone too far? Did he push Damien past his comfort level? Of course he had. He practically undressed the guy. What had he been thinking?

"I-I'm so-" he started, unable to force the words out. He couldn't make himself apologise. He would not be sorry for his stupidity. He'd enjoyed himself. Damien just couldn't handle it. That's what it was. Damien was the idiot. He was the one losing him. It was _his_ loss, _his_ problem, _his_ FUCKING-

But why did it hurt so much if it was only Damien who lost? Why couldn't he breathe? Why did his head hurt and why was he trembling? Why couldn't he look at him?

A touch at his elbow and he jerked away, wiping furiously at his eyes. No, he wasn't crying, not yet. But his eyes were burning and probably red.

Another touch, and he blinked in the direction of the contact.

Damien was there, and his face. His face looked - Damien should never look like that. He still felt horrible, pained, but he could suck it up. Make him stop making that face, just stop. He took in a deep breath, trying to calm down his breathing, and then Damien started to talk. Or attempted to. None of it made sense, jumbled, halted sentences, repeated phrases. What?

It was so hot, and he pulled at the fabric at his throat. "What?" he croaked, shaking his head at the older guy, not understanding. He reached out, only to pull his hand back in again. He couldn't touch him. He fisted his hand over his chest. Miscommunication sucked, and he couldn't make sense of any of it.

Damien was trying again. "Look, you - I, it didn't mean, we-"

Grayson blinked again. It wasn't like Damien not to know what to say, this wasn't right. And it was his fault. He had to stop it, this Damien wasn't _his_ Damien. He had to help him, and he reached out as if to touch him, help brace him, but then he remembered. His hands hovered around him, but wasn't close enough to touch him.

"Deep breath, breathe. Think." Again, he tried to grab his shoulders, brace him, but didn't.

"It'll be fine. I'll be fine. We'll never speak of this, just-"

And then Damien grabbed his hands. "Stop, just stop. You fucking idiot, I don't want- I want." He pulled his hands back onto his chest and grabbed his face. "Shut the fuck up, just-"

He kissed him, and Grayson had a difficult time not digging his nails into his chest. But it felt so good, and the roles seemed to have switched, and instead of pushing Damien against the wall, he was now pulling him against him. The face, the stuttering words, had he been trying to apologise?

He pulled his face back slightly, but didn't dare try to separate himself from Damien.

"You didn't mean it?"

"Nope." He disentangled himself from the Gryffindor, giving him a look when he sensed he was going to panic again. "I didn't mean it. Nothing happened."

"But you felt-"

"I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't." He was now straightening his clothing, hitching his trousers up to where they were supposed to hang, and buttoning his shirt up.

"But-"

"Just shut up." Damien leaned toward him again to peck at his cheek, just shy of his lips. "Nothing's changed."

"Your chin is bruising."

"I know where we can find some white vinegar."

"What?"

"Just shut up."

And then Grayson straightened himself out as well. He said nothing had changed. He didn't believe him. He'd never kissed him like that before. That peck. It took all he had to not grin as he rolled his sleeves up.

"I'm going to kiss you again."

"I know. But not now."

He grinned.


End file.
